The thing we misunderstand when we say things
Like”we’re divided” and “there can be no unity”
Is that we are joined by infinite strings,
Like it or hate it, much like the beloved community
Of my nostrils welcomes oxygen that fills
My foot blood. Try it on and feel the pain
Of that statement: your sins, needs, and ills
Are not mine–I’ll take care of my main
Man–me. And we wonder why our cells
Attack themselves in this place built by jumping
Over people we knocked down, ignoring yells
For help–insisiting my drumbeat keeps thumping.
When the lungs tell the heart, “you do not belong to me,”
The spirit must vacate in the absence of We.